Mama Bird

Newborn fawns--

We've discussed my lack of maternal instinct on here before. If it doesn't involve a dog named Goose, then I'm not feeding it, bathing it, cleaning up after it, or taking sick days for it.

Don't send your kids to my door in a Girl Scout uniform or a Halloween costume, 'cuz Sweet Tea don't suffer no fools. I don't mean to cast apersions on kids in general, but...all kids basically look like this to me, and I have never had a problem making the argument for early incarceration. Don't encourage me, you adorable little fucker:

One day, as I was pouring cooking my din-din, I heard a tap-tap-tapping on the window in my living room. Even though I live in a mercifully mostly-child-free neighborhood, my first thought was that a little kid was tapping on the window. I poked my head around the corner to check. Nothing.

A couple of minutes later, I heard the tapping again. Again I checked, and again nothing. When I heard the tapping again, I thought, "Some little bastard's about to meet Jesus."

I hid behind a wall (in my own home--nice, right?) and prepared to pop out on the little bastard. I was hopped up on the kind of adrenaline that can come only from the excited anticipation of catching an entitled little prick in the act of bugging Crazy Dog Lady and marching his ass up in front of his mother and making him confess his little ass to her. I WAS READY.

As soon as the next tap came, I hopped out from behind the wall just fast enough to see a tiny red streak falling to the ground. I walked over to the window. A baby red cardinal with disheveled wings was stumbling around, looking drunk and disoriented. "Is this what I look like every night?" I wondered.

After he stumbled around for a while, he hopped back up into the tree, stared at his reflection (which made it look as if he were looking right in at me), and then he charged the window. He kicked his own ass as he attacked his reflection, tumbling to the ground, stumbling around, and repeating the process over and over.

He was just a baby. A stupid, fucked-up baby of a bird. I knew he'd starve to death or beat his head against the window until he killed himself, so I intervened. I became the proud owner of a bird feeder and a bird bath, and the rest is history.

He still attacks his reflection in the window, but I'm used to it now and Lucy doesn't bark her ass off at him anymore.

It's been nearly a year now, and the gorgeous beast of a bird is doing great. Life is good. He's strong, healthy, and big enough to feed a family of four. He bangs all the hot chicks (ba-dum-ching!), drives a cool car, and spends his days chillin' because he doesn't have a care in the world, thanks to me, Mama Bird.

Hey, kids--I'm taking Friday off, but I'll be back Monday. Y'all be good and take care!

Thanks to Sweet Tea Sis for the BUSTED pic. Nice work. Kid was smilin' and everything.